Different
by FreddyandGeorgy
Summary: "Stuck 20 years into the past, Hermione Granger meets a cocky Sirius Black. All she wants to do is hex him until he's bald of all that raven hair. That's to say, until he helps her bring two very important Slytherins over to the light side.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer - I do not own Harry Potter, nor the charcters, JKR holds that honour.**

**A/N i adopted this story, so yes you might have read something like this before, but i gotten permission.**

**{Dumbledore did die, Sirius didn't, and there was no final battle}**

Hermione sighed, running her hand idly through her curly hair as she reminisced on recent events – events that had far too much to do with Horcruxes, failed findings, and scars for her specific taste. Honestly, it seemed that everything that plagued her thoughts on a day-to-day basis had to do with the things she _didn't _want to think about. Why couldn't her brain revolve around books anymore?

She snapped _Hogwarts: A History _closed in great vexation, frustrated with herself for reading the same page over and over again and _still _not processing what the musty old words were saying. She couldn't seem to concentrate on much anymore; in fact, she couldn't concentrate on anything at all.

When her Aunt Spoke to her, all Hermione heard was useless muttering; when Harry owled her, all she read were scribbles; when she picked up a book to read, all she saw was positively nothing, and when she turned the page, she forgot entirely what it was she reading in the first place.

Hermione's hand traced the scar that ran upon her forearm, deep in thought, and shuddered at the all too vivid memory that surfaced. . .

_They were hunting for Horcruxes, and had just found the Sword of Godric Gryffindor – the only known thing that could successfully destroy a Horcrux besides a Basilisk fang. Everything was going smoothly – Ron had returned, they'd destroyed the locket, and they had a lead as to where another one could possibly be hidden. _

_Of course, nothing ever quite stayed the way they wanted it. _

_Harry set off the taboo by saying Voldemort's name, and they had less then five seconds before Snatchers would arrive and surround them. Hermione quickly sent a Stinging Jinx at Harry's face, successfully disfiguring his scar._

_Despite their best efforts, they were still caught; Scabior only glimpsed at Harry's forehead before dragging them straight to Malfoy Manor. Wandless, Harry and Ron were thrown in the dungeons whilst Bellatrix decided to take Hermione for some "Girl Talk"._

_But as soon as the doors closed, Hermione found herself being thrown to the ground, her head colliding into the marble flooring with a sickening "crack". _

_Bellatrix proceeded to stalk around Hermione, black hair bouncing with every step she took. Her eyes were alight and savage, cold and pitiless; her red lips were drawn above her pointed teeth, giving her the appearance of a feline ready to eat its prey. _

_After a moment of seductive circling, she bent down to Hermione's level._

_"How did you get into my vault, you dirty mudblood?" _

_Hermione didn't move nor make any sign of speech; there was no way she was going to give away everything they'd worked so hard for. _

_"Pity," she said in a voice that was anything but. "CRUCIO!" _

_The pain was unbearable. It was as if someone was slowly peeling off every layer of skin she had using a knife, then dipping the fleshly pieces into acid and replacing them upon Hermione's body. But no matter how many times her fingernails were pulled out, and no matter how many times she was set on fire, she refused to scream. Instead, she bit her lip until she drew blood, withering on the ground soundlessly._

_Bellatrix seemed to grow tried of the quiet, because after a moment she lifted her wand, a pensive look on her face as she tapped her nose. Then, as if on a whim of glee, she accioed a lethal looking muggle knife, then idly ran it across Hermione neck, lightly cutting the soft skin. _

_"I'm not going to waste my precious magic on a filthy mudblood like you." Bellatrix spat, then straddled her and began to carve into her arm, rejoicing in Hermione's agonized screams with every dig the tip made. _

_"IT'S A COPY!" Hermione shrieked helplessly. "A COPY!"_

_Bellatrix merely cackled, apparently having too much fun to care. _

_But Hermione was spared when Bellatrix's attention was hastily wrenched from her to Harry and Ron, wands in hand and ready to escape. Slowly moving her head, her eyes were met with an agonizingly familiar word etched into her skin. _

_Scarlet "mudblood" now stood obtrusively against pearly white, and would remain so forever. _

Of course, her wounds weren't the only things that constantly circled behind her eyes like flies. Every now again, against her better judgment, thoughts and painful flashbacks of her parents would hack into her mind, driving her nearly to the brink of insanity.

She'd been forced to modify their memories, to ensure their safety, but what she hadn't expected was the Death Eaters to find them so quickly and torture them until they realized they didn't know any "Hermione Granger".

They had died not knowing they had a daughter.

The hauntingly painful thoughts began to gnaw at her eyes, prickling them so much so that tears threatened to overtake her cheeks.

Shaking her head, she tossed _Hogwarts: A History _aside and began to pack all of her new clothes into her trunk.

Hermione's Aunt – who was now her legal Guardian – thought her wardrobe was in need of a change, so she had promptly kidnapped Hermione and held her ransom for the whole day, buying all the "in" styles.

Unfortunately for Aunt Sue, Hermione had no intention of wearing half of the outfits that now cascaded down her over-stuffed dresser. In loving honesty, Hermione was glad for the new clothes. Although she wasn't one for high fashion, it was nice to know she had some decent things waiting to be worn. After all, she had vowed with Voldemort still in full power and she'd almost died countless times – for Merlin's sake, she was going to live a little.

Her studies were still important to her, but so many near-death experiences had changed her view on certain things – like clothes and being a girl. So by Jove, she would look like the creature she was created to be.

Running down the stairs at a painstaking speed, she tugged her packed truck along behind her and smiled at her Aunt.

When they arrived at Kings Cross Station, Hermione said her good-bye's to her Aunt – who didn't know she was magical – and pushed the trolley towards Platform nine and three quarters, attempting to be as subtle about running through a wall as possible.

Once her Aunt was far out of sight and an opportunity arose, she ran through the barrier and emerged on the other side. But instead of excited children and rushing parents, her eyes were met with screaming people, fire, and blood; Death Eaters.

Curses were flying everywhere, and in her hasty attempt to dodge both the streaking lines of light and the panicking people, she failed to realize her greatest mistake: she had run right into a trap.

Her wand was barely in her hand when it happened – two spells hit her at once, and, still holding her trunk, a flash of vibrant purple clouded her vision.

She disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

After the glow dispersed and she was sure she could open her eyes and not be blinded, Hermione looked around. Still clutching her wand and trunk, she blinked disbelievingly, quite sure that the spells had killed her with what she saw.

She was in the exact same spot as before the spells hit her, but instead of being met by the sight of a dozen wands trained upon her heart, she was thoroughly panicked to see students boarding the completely intact, Hogwarts Express.

Why weren't people running, dying, screaming?

She glanced from left to right, up to down, warily – not understanding at all what happened. How could she have gone from such a deadly scene to one of such calm serenity? It was as if the whole world went topsy-turvey.

Running through a list of possible insanity spells or charms that put the victim into a deep, dream-filled state, her know it all mind only came up with blank nothingness. Her entire being seemed to be opaque and empty.

_How on earth. . .?_

A little boy gave a loud wail, causing Hermione's head to snap up and whip around to the cause, wand drawn and ready. Apparently he had dropped his pack of Burtie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and the young witch that was his mother refused to get him any more.

With a tense sigh, she turned and, quite thankfully, saw a Daily Prophet lying abandoned on the cobblestone ground. She trudged over to it, picked it up, and scanned the headline.

Instead of seeing news of recent Death Eater attacks or horrible stories by that smarmy Rita Skeeter, what Hermione read was much, much worse. What was in the headline was so horrendous, in fact, that Hermione dropped the paper and gave a shuttering gasp as she staggered backwards a few steps, dropping her wand and trunk.

"_Today's date: September 1, 1978." _

The date was 1978? It couldn't be!. . . Could it?

Hermione blinked several times, slammed her lids shut, rubbed them good, then wrenched them open again, but the date stayed the same.

That meant, if it was true, that the collision of the two spells had manifestly sent her careening back in time. But not just any time, it was the Marauders time; Harry's dad, Sirius, Lupin, Pettigrew. . .

Hatred immediately coursed through her veins like a raging fire at the mere though of Peter Pettigrew. She wanted to wring his fat neck, she wanted to Avada him into the dust, she wanted to. . .

_No, he's not bad yet. _She sternly told herself.

With that, Hermione approached the train with slight caution, her trunk jutting around behind her, then stepped over the threshold and looked around. Quite honestly, she knew it was wrong to be seen when one has traveled back in time, but she needed to see Dumbledore as soon as possible; this meant that she couldn't avoid the simple notion that boarding the train was a must.

So, confidently jutting out her chin, she walked towards the compartment that she, Harry and Ron usually occupied, put away her trunk, and squeezed closest to the window.

Smiling slightly at the familiar feel of going home, she looked out the window, waiting for the train to move. A few voices sounded outside the compartment, causing her to shift uncomfortably at the thought of being seen. But before she cause the door to be "accidentally jammed", it flew open and four boys shuffled in.

Hermione stared – James Potter, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew began to unload their items, obviously not noticing her.

"Err.. hi?" Hermione said hesitantly. "Sorry, I'll just..." she trailed off, making way to get up.

"No, that's alright! Can we sit with you?" Remus asked politely, shooting her an apologetic look.

"Sure." Hermione said shyly, moving even closer to the window so that the entire right half of her body was firmly shoved up against it.

The three boys sat down across from her, all looking extremely awkward.

She was uncomfortably aware of the fact that they were staring at her arm, cursing herself for wearing a tee-shirt. She continued staring out the window, self-consciously rubbing her arm, hoping they'd take notice and avert their eyes to a less. . . personal matter.

Of course, this they did not, and she shifted in her seat. She wasn't ashamed of what she was, she wasn't ashamed of what she'd done to earn the scar; she was really quite proud, in fact, and the scar wouldn't unable herself to wear tee-shirts.

So, with revised vigor, she straightened her back proudly and allowed the scar to hang in plane view. Ashamed she was not, annoyed she was.

"It's quite rude to stare." Hermione said, pissed off, not moving her eyes from the window.

"W-w-hat happened to your arm?" James asked, horrifyingly shocked.

This time, she did look at him.

"Death eaters." she deadpanned.

"Hello, I'm Remus Lupin." Remus said, holding out his hand for Hermione to shake. It was quite obvious he was trying to rear the subject around from her tattered skin to a topic that was a little less. . . tense.

Thinking quick, she decided to use an alias. "Hey, Hermione Thomas."

She took his hand and shook it, quickly letting it go and sitting back in her seat.

"This is James Potter." Remus said, pointing to the messy, raven haired boy with hazel eyes. Other than emerald-green irises and a lightning bolt scar, Harry and James looked frighteningly identical. "And this is Peter Pettigrew." he said, pointing to a plump boy with blue, watery eyes; so unlike the one Hermione had seen in the Shrieking Shack.

Hermione said hello to each boy, shaking their hands gingerly and quickly releasing them. (She had to repress a shudder when she shook Peter's.)

_He hasn't done anything wrong yet. . ._ she kept chanting.

"Are you a transfer?" James inquired.

"Yes, I transferred from a little school in England."

"Why'd you transfer?" He asked.

"My parents were killed." Hermione said, her throat becoming thick with a lump.

"I'm sorry to hear that." Remus said sorrowfully.

All three boys nodded, and Hermione took this as her cue to resume staring out the window.

_That was hard._ she thought sadly, her heart clenching as she heard the boys laugh. In four years or so, none of these boys would have a single thing to laugh about.

She shook her head mentally; _No more thinking like this_._ I'll going to go straight to Professor Dumbledore once the train stops and there I'll tell him my predicament. Hopefully he'll know what to do. . ._

But, even if Dumbledore couldn't help her, she resolved to try her best in this new era. Perhaps getting to know Harry's parents wouldn't be so bad. Maybe, just maybe, she'd have a fun time here, and maybe, just maybe, she'd be able to forget everything that would happen to both herself and these others in the near future.


	3. Chapter 3

Five minutes of droning, awkward silence later, the compartment door slid open again. This time a boy of about six feet three swaggered in – arrogant and masculine in all ways known. A cocky smirk was plastered on his handsome face and his eyes were alight with a mischievous twinkle.

Roguish and broad, he had silky raven locks that fell into his face every once and a while, stormy gray eyes, a well-built body, and perfectly chiseled features. The air around him crackled with egotistical narcissism and his face didn't deny the fact.

It was perfectly obvious that the boy was –

"Sirius!" James cooed, batting his eyelashes playfully. "Where ya been, mate? I've been looking positively _everywhere_for you."

Falling into Jame's arms dramatically, Sirius gave a mournful cry in response. "Oh, _James_! I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to be gone for so long! The loo is just _too_far away! You know I can't stand to be away from you for so long, either!"

Hermione surveyed the Romeo and Juliet theme with rapt interest. Was this what they did all the time? The most disturbing fact was that Sirius and James seemed to reenact the part perfectly. She couldn't help but pity Remus and Peter. . .

Scrutinizing Sirius more closely, she couldn't deny the fact he was definitely the most attractive male specimen to ever walk the earth. Charming and witty with angelic features that seemed to have a twist of rebellion, the future rumors didn't seem to do the young Marauder any justice.

Wrenching himself from Jame's grasp, he seemed to only just realize that she was in the compartment. If he was embarrassed at being caught in such an embrace, he most definitely didn't show it. Instead, he gave an all-knowing smirk when he caught Hermione's eye.

"And who's this lovely lady?"

Flushing just the slightest with both annoyance and humiliation, Hermione answered rather dully, "I'm Hermione Thomas – transfer student."

Almost immediately he began to mentally undress her; his eyes racked up and down her body appreciatively. He paused in his endeavors when he spotted her arm, than threw the most charming smile he had.

"Sirius Black, at you service." he said, picking up her hand and kissing it. Hermione's cheeks tinged, but she scowled all the same and yanked her fingers from his hold.

He sat down beside her – perhaps a little too closely for her personal comfort – and slowly began to trace the scar on her forearm.

"Who did this?" he asked, his eyes dark.

"Death Eaters." she replied simply, feeling, once again, angry at herself for wearing a tee-shirt. "And if you don't mind, it's a topic I would rather not discuss." Then, as an afterthought, added, "I'm not ashamed of what I am."

"You shouldn't be." he replied, making most of her anger dissipate when she caught the dark shadow that crossed his face.

But he didn't say anymore, simply picked up a conversation with James about Quidditch that year, acting as if he hadn't just interrupted Hermione's personal space. Remus was reading in the corner of the compartment, shaking his head at Sirius as he glanced over the brim of his book.

Peter was watching Sirius and James like they were gods, completely enraptured by every syllable that spilled out of their mouths.

_What changed him so?_she asked herself. _He seems quite alright to me. I suppose if I can't get back home soon, I'll have to investigate about him._

All too abruptly they were almost at Hogwarts, and she was forced to grab her robes from her trunk. It took her a minute to close it, staring at the charred outside of the once brand-new leather. _Ah, I forgot about my trunk. Poor thing. Just got it yesterday, too._

She walked down the train towards the loo to get changed, slipping on her uniform professionally before walking back to their compartment. Oddly enough, despite her current situation, she was thoroughly excited to go to Hogwarts again. It had been far too long – almost two years – since she'd last seen the castle.

It was her home; no matter what time, no matter what age, it would always be her home.

"First years! Follow me, please. First years over here!" a younger Hagrid called, waving his lantern around to round up the new students.

The four Marauders and Hermione filed out of the train. She made her way over to the carriages and decided on a whim to sit with them – Sirius didn't seem to mind. But before getting in, she unconsciously paused in front of the carriage and gave the Thestral a pat, much to the amazement of the four boys.

Realizing her mistake, she decided to elaborate.

"They're not horseless carriages; they're pulled by creatures called Thestrals which are invisible to those who have not seen death."

Giving the horse one last pat, she clambered up onto the carriage. But the conversation was far from over, however, because as soon as the rest of the group sat down, they seemed, although hesitant, quite curious.

"How did you known the carriages are pulled by Thestrals?" James asked.

"How old are you?" Sirius quipped, leaning in closely and eying her with a spark in his gray orbs.

"You're very pretty." Peter said shyly, then quickly thumped a hand over his mouth.

Wondering if it was okay to give away such information (and pointedly ignoring Peter's comment and Sirius' lack of personal space), she decided it couldn't be all that harmful to tell them her age and explain about her parents. After all, if she was stuck here, it was better they knew now then asked later.

"Well, I'm seventeen," she lied here, deciding it would be odd to say she was nineteen yet still at Hogwarts. "and I knew the Thestrals were there because I saw my parents die."

No one commented on her parents, instead looked satisfied with her explanation.

Hermione could barely contain her excitement at going back to Hogwarts much to the boy's amusement. She was very nearly bouncing in her seat to get a better look at the castle that she'd missed for so long.

"Excited, are we?" Sirius teased.

"Yes. I've always wanted to go to Hogwarts, but mum and dad wouldn't let me." Hermione lied.

"How come?"

"They, erm, didn't like the idea of me living in a castle. . . er, so far away." Hermione said, giving an awkward smile as she lied through her teeth.

The carriages pulled up to the entrance, pausing only long enough for the students to depart before rolling away, rocks crunching under the churning wheels.

Needing to see Dumbledore but not wanting to look suspicious by meandering around by herself, she said, "Err, guys? I have to go see Professor Dumbledore." The boys paused and turned to look at her. "Um, could someone show me the way?"

There was a loud chorus of "yes's" as Sirius and James grabbed her arms and yanked her in the opposite direction of the crowd. They led her through all kinds of quirky passageways, Remus explaining some facts here and there about how they found them and what you had to be careful of when using them.

Hermione smiled; for some reason, whenever she thought of the Marauders, she thought of them doing just this – exploring the castle and getting into trouble. It was somewhat of a comfort, knowing something was familiar.

They arrived at the stone gargoyle, looking at it and then at each other when they realized that they didn't know the password.

"Er. . ." James began. "Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans?"

"Chocolate frogs!" Peter tried.

"Humbugs?" Sirius guessed.

"Drobbles Best Blowing Gum." Remus said.

"Lemon drop?" Hermione joined.

"Liquorice Wands?" James attempted again.

"Lollypops?" The gargoyle sprang aside. Hermione took in their confused expressions. _Right. . . they're all Half-blood or more._ "Muggle sweet." she explained, giving a shrug.

Stepping onto the marble staircase, she paused and glanced behind her. All the boys were following in suit and she quirked an eyebrow.

"Ah. . . you guys can go now." she said. Opening their mouths to argue, she quickly continued. "I don't know how long I'll be here. And I'm sure the Headmaster wouldn't mind helping me find my way back."

Sirius lingered longer than the others, but eventually followed them when she shooed him away with her hand. _Merlin, don't tell me I'll be stuck with_more _daft and brainless gits._

Swallowing nervously, she continued up the steps. _Just one foot at a time. . ._What if he didn't believe her? She highly doubted he would turn her away, it just wasn't in his nature. But if something did turn up and grew suspicious, then she'd need to find another way back.

_But . . . what if there isn't another way home?_Rubbing her sweaty palms on her robe, she knocked on the large, intimidating door. _Dumbledore's my only option._

**A/N**

**Hello I'm sorry it's taken so long to upload! Just to tell you i love my beta ****PravusAuror**** I don't know what I'd do without her!**

**Thank you for the reviews **

**Laura,**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Anything you reconise it's not mine

Hermione wrapped her knuckles on the wood, anxiously tracing the grain lines with her eyes, watching one line fall through another, then rising through a crack, then disappearing into a knot. Good Merlin. . . What was she doing? How on earth had she gotten into this mess in the first place? What made her deserve such a miserable fate?

A reticent "come in" caused her to stir from her musings, and she hesitantly pushed the door open. A low creak emitted from the rusty hinges, making her appearance highly obvious. She supposed it didn't matter whether she was muted in her activities or not, somehow Dumbledore always knew.

Sat behind an obtrusive desk with many little gadgets and trinkets whirring and whizzing upon it and around it, was Dumbledore. His great, slender fingers were set in a steeple as he watched her slowly approach the the crimson chair that was placed before his desk.

His beard was shorter then she'd remembered, not lengthy enough to tuck into his belt as it had been in 1996, but sustained enough to reach his lower chest. His hair was still gray and he didn't look a day older – or, well, younger. He still had an excessive amount of wrinkles, and the familiar, all-knowing twinkle still sparkled in his blue eyes.

Hesitantly, Hermione stepped beside the chair and waited for him to motion for her to sit before moving. When he did, she almost sighed in relief when the plushy cushion cradled her into its lovely red depths.

He seemed almost amused as a few creased lines faded when she sat further into the chair.

She was still trying to conceive what she was going to tell him when he rose from his chair, grabbed a floral bowl, and handed it to her.

"Lemon Drop?"

Hermione blinked several times as she stared at the yellow candies that were shoved in front of her nose. Recoiling just the slightest, she replied, "Um, no, thank you."

He simply nodded and popped one into his mouth before motioning for her to speak.

Gee, thanks. Now I can't remember what it bloody was I was going to say.

Swallowing, she opened up her mouth to speak. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore."

He tilted his head towards her. "Young lady, you seem to know my name, but I do not know yours. . ."

"Sir, please excuse my brashness, but you do know me; or, at least, you will." she puffed out her chest in confidence as she continued before she lost her cool demeanor. "My name is Hermione Granger, Sir, and I am from twenty years into the future. I don't know how I got here, but Death Eaters were involved. I'm a Seventh year in Gryffindor known as the brightest witch of my age. I'm Muggleborn, birthed on the nineteenth of September, 1971. I'll be turning 18 this year, Sir." Hermione finished breathlessly, sucking in a huge gasp of air.

If Dumbledore was surprised, he didn't show it.

"Ah." was all he said.

Then. . .

"Lemon Drop?"

Hermione was about ready to lose it. The floral bowl was once again pressed up against her nose, this time he had a grin on his face.

The old codger!

"Sir!" she cried, shoving the bowl from her face. "This is serious! Will I be able to get home?"

With a sigh, he set the bowl down beside him and pulled his square spectacles from the bridge of his nose. He lifted a single hand and rubbed his eyes wearily, making immediate fear plunge through her body like a bucket of ice-water being tossed into her stomach.

He surveyed warmly, the twinkle now absent from the blue depths. "I am afraid you will not."

Hermione sat back in the chair, its plushy embers now feeling quite close to jagged rocks. He'd confirmed her worst fear – now she would never be able to return home to Harry and Ron. What on earth would they do without her?

"I am very sorry. As far as I am aware, Time Turners are the only things that can be used to travel through time, and even they can only bring one back a few hours a day – a week at the most. I'm afraid you will have to stay here until I am able to work something out with a close friend of mine who may just be able to help me with your situation. But if that does not work out," his face darkened. "you will have to remain here."

Feeling extremely downcast, she miserably rested her chin on her palm.

No way? Tears prickled her ducts at the thought of never seeing Ron and Harry again. Well, I'll see them again, just not as I would have originally. . . Or at the same age. . .

This realization made her feel even more afflicted. What in Merlin's name had she ever done?

Dumbledore watched helplessly from his position across from her, waiting for her to compose herself. He did, of course, feel immensely woebegone for her. She was just a young girl, trapped in a time of death and suffering, then thrown back in to an era she wasn't supposed to even exist in. But there was nothing he could do. That's to say, unless Nicholas had theories.

After quite some time of contemplative silence, she spoke quietly.

"I'll need new books; I have a uniform, but I think my old books are far too advanced for this generation." Dumbledore simply nodded, still lost in his thoughtful rendezvous. "Will I need to be resorted?"

"Yes, I'm sorry to say you will. We don't want people getting suspicious." Dumbledore replied, snapping away from his musings. "I assume you have already changed your last name? As it is, you strike me as very intelligent."

Hermione flushed at the complement. "Yes, I've decided on an alias – Hermione Thomas."

"Very good." he nodded. "A commonly used muggle name."

They then stood, Dumbledore offering to walk her to the Great Hall so they could commence with her Sorting. She complied, shakily following his blue robes out of the homey office.

Hermione was a bundle of nerves, what if she didn't get sorted into Gryffindor, but Ravenclaw, instead? No, she told her herself firmly. I was placed there once so I will be placed there again. The Sorting Hat never lies and always sticks to its decision.

The doors opened and Hermione squared her shoulders. Stepping into the room, she almost let out a breath of relief for the familiarity. She began to trudge her way along to the center towards a group of nervous First years. She stood behind them, feeling a little humiliated for having to go through the Sorting again.

She tried her best to ignore the stares and. . . wait, wolf whistling?

Hermione's head almost snapped off as she looked in the direction of the Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and even the Slytherin table. What the bloody hell. . .?

"Thomas, Hermione." Professor McGonagall said, shooting a withering glare in the direction of all the tables.

Stepping up to the sorting hat, she sat on the stool and felt a little foolish when her feet touched the floor. Professor McGonall placed it on her head, stepping back and watching with baited breath along with the rest of the Hall.

"Ah. . . Interesting; a Time Traveler? I haven't had one of you for at least a hundred years, and his demise didn't end too well, either." Hermione almost peed herself at this. "But the question is, where to put you? Hmm. . . I see you'd do well in Hufflepuff – your loyalty has no bounds. . ."

Not Hufflepuff. Not Hufflepuff.

"Not Hufflepuff, eh? You're quite right, far too many brains here. . . It seems you'd bode well in Ravenclaw. . . Yes, they'd help you on your path to greatness. . ."

No, no, no, no, no, no – Hermione chanted mentally. Gryffindor!

"Gryffindor? Ah, I can see that is where I placed you before. . . Yes, you are brave, and very courageous, yes . . . Better be. . .GRYFFINDOR!"

The great hall erupted into applause. Hermione, beaming happily, hoped off the seat to find a place at Gryffindor table. She watched as Sirius shoved James down closer to Lily, giving a gap for her to sit. But Hermione, sniffing in disdain, motioned for James to slide back over to Sirius so she could take the spot between James and Lily.

Sirius looked extremely put out.

"Congrats! Knew you'd be in Gryffindor as soon as I saw you." James said, patting her on the back.

"Thanks. . ." Hermione said meekly.

"Why did it take so long?" Remus asked.

"Did it take long? Really, I was having an argument with that Hat." Hermione said with a little huff, smiling at their shocked faces. "I didn't want to go to Ravenclaw." she explained.

"Really?" Sirius asked, and opened up his mouth to say something rather dashing – or vulgar, because he just so happened to be excellent at both topics – but was abruptly cut off by the girl sitting on Hermione's other side.

"Hi, I'm Lily Evans. You must be Hermione Thomas." at this, James snorted something sarcastic into his roast that sounded suspiciously like, "No way, how ever did you know?" and was slapped upside the head by Lily. "I'm a Gryffindor Prefect along with Remus Lupin; welcome to Gryffindor."

"Thank-you." Hermione said, dishing herself some potatoes.

"You're sharing a dorm with Alice, Connie and I. We're the only Seventh year Gryffindors, so it'll be nice to have another addition." said Lily, smiling kindly.

Hermione was blatantly surprised by this information, as in her time there were only three Gryffindor girls in her year as well.

"We had two others sharing with us," Lily continued. "But they were killed by Death Eaters in Fifth year."

The girl beside Lily – whom Hermione guessed to be Connie – began to sadly shovel food onto both her and Lily's plate, not realizing she had put about three large spoonfuls of pasta onto her own plate until Lily halted her progress.

Ten minutes into dessert James attempted to start a conversation with Lily, but was rudely snubbed when the fiery redhead turned sharply to Hermione.

"Come on, I'll show you the dorms."

As Lily yanked desperately on Hermione arm, Hermione couldn't help but be taken aback by the hurt look on Jame's face. In fact, the poor boy was so distraught he quickly turned towards his food and stuffed chocolate pudding into his mouth until it oozed out of the corners of his lips.

Getting up, she started to follow Lily towards the Great Hall's doors, but paused and turned back. She bent down and whispered in Jame's ear, "Don't worry, you'll get her eventually." then gave him a encouraging pat on the shoulder and followed Lily out into the stones corridor that lead to the moving staircases, ignoring the untidy haired boy's shocked expression.

**A/N Hope you enjoy, and again thank you so much for my amazing Beta!**

**Please review, weather it's one word or how ever many i don't mind!, thanks **

**Laura,**


	5. Chapter 5

AM SO SO SO SO SORRY IT HAS BEEN AGES AND I DOUBT ANYONE IS STILL READING THIS BUT HEY THIS IS MY NEW CHAPTER AND IM SORRY I HOPE YOU ALL FORGIVE ME I LOVE YOU ALL!

**DISCLAIMER : EVERYTHING YOU RECONISE IS NOT MINE AND BELONGS TO JK ! **

**PS: DONT HATE ME PLS **

Hermione Thomas was a mystery.

She was what Sirius dubbed a "Beautiful Enigma".

Claiming she was an exchange student with a rough and unjust background, Hermione surely was a strange specimen. How was it she ended up at Hogwarts when she'd lost it all? Quite considerately, Sirius took great notice of her. With honey ringlets and chocolate eyes, a lovely figure, and that contemplative pucker between her brows – how could one not? Every boy in Hogwarts took a fancy to her as soon as their eyes met the meticulous girl.

Remus – ever so observant – stated, however, and as a matter of fact, that Hogwarts had never had a transfer student. This sparked Sirius' curiosity tenfold.

Why was she so interesting to him?

Perhaps it was her unknown past or that aura of secrecy that pulsed around her, or perhaps it was her eyes – deep, warm and brown, filled to the brim with mixed emotions that set his brain into clogging. Determination, compassion, courage, haunting, pain, hollowness, love. . . These were some of the few he could identify.

But what Sirius wanted to know with a burning passion was how she had obtained such a scar; such a painful, abhorrent scar. It both fascinated and enraged him. Just like her.

Not only did she ignore him and act like his attempts to woo her were nothing more than childish antics, but she also acted indifferent about him – like he was merely a breeze passing through her unruly tendrils on a Spring afternoon.

Albeit the target of her brashness, he could see some weird emotion light in her eyes whenever she looked at him. Perhaps it was something like. . . Sorrow?

He wasn't sure. But it bothered him.

"Prongsy old boy," he began to James. "I think we have a new pranking guinea pig on our hands."

He didn't elaborate, but it was quite obvious that he was referring to Hermione whom had no idea of their evil intent on destroying and humiliating every single Hogwarts student – mainly the Slytherins, but even Gryffindors got on the wrong end of the Marauder's plans – that they possibly could before graduation.

Instead of a laugh, he was surprised to see James frown. "I don't think I'm continuing with these immature antics of ours anymore, Padfoot."

Sirius actually choked on his food.

It took him a minute to dislodge the piece of chicken from his throat, but once it was clear, he almost screamed in surprise.

"What! But James, we're the Marauders; we can't just stop pranking people!"

There was no reply in return, but Sirius was quite sure that this new decision had to do with Lily and Jame's infatuation with her. But it really didn't matter all that much – Sirius knew him far too well, and if he and Peter told him their new idea, James would immediately join in.

Turning his eyes away from his sulking friend, he watched Hermione murmur something to Lily and stand to leave. The redhead hopped up as well and rushed out of the Great Hall importantly. Hermione, however, did not leave so abruptly – she bent down and whispered something in Jame's ear.

The untidy haired boy looked surprised. He blinked after Hermione's retreating figure, smiled, then began to shove food into his mouth, talking animatedly once more.

_Oh Yes, _Sirius thought ruefully. _Hermione Thomas is a mystery, and an exciting one at that. And oh, how she will be mine._

As they walked towards Gryffindor Tower, Hermione found herself enjoying every aspect of being back at Hogwarts even though she was in a completely different time era.

Everything looked the same; every portrait was familiar and every turn, every stone, every little thing that she saw made her warm inside with an emotional rage of just being _home_. Memories flooded her and it wasn't until she clumsily tripped over the edge of a pedestal belonging to a suit of armor –thankfully she was caught by both Lily and the suits blunt ax– did she snap out of her musings to pay attention to what the redhead was saying about a particularly bland painting they'd past ten minutes ago.

They were stopped on their way by Nearly Headless Nick who was boisterous about having a new student. He ardently shook her hand, making a big show of himself before bowing low and introducing his ghostliness.

"I am Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington." he swept his hat off his head and gestured to himself. "Very pleased to meet you miss Thomas!"

With that he floated off, apologizing most endearingly, saying that he had to welcome all the first years at dinner. Once he was out of hearing range Lily leaned over and murmured, "Or you can just call him Nearly Headless Nick, as we all do. He doesn't take to the nickname very well, so when addressing him personally I advise you to call him Sir Nicholas."

Of course she already knew this, but acted clueless and nodded.

Lily lead Hermione through the portrait of the Fat Lady, explaining with ease about Gryffindor House and Tower. Telling her rather seriously that the Fat Lady changed the password every term, – to which Hermione already knew, of course – Lily explained that the current password was "fortitudo" and that Hermione should never forget it unless she wished to be stuck in the drafty corridors until Filch found her.

Hermione followed obediently, pretending to act surprised by everything she heard, up the spiraling staircase and into the seventh year girl's dormitory.

Pointing to the bed on the farthest side of the room, Lily said, "That belongs to Connie; she's not the best person to be around, but she's okay company when she's not off about boys and whatnot." Hermione wrinkled her nose at this, being strangely reminded of Lavender Brown. "And this–" she pointed to another bed. "belongs to Alice. Mine is this one, and yours is right beside mine."

Hermione walked over to the only unkempt bed, pleasantly surprised to see a trunk at the end of it that held school robes and books.

_Of course. Dumbledore just can't help but meddle with everything. It's _always _under-control with that old bugger._

Not waiting to meet Alice or Connie, Hermione made an excuse of severe exhaustion and climbed into the four poster. She shut the drapes behind her and stared at the ceiling, her lids drooping heavily.

It had been a long day. When she first met the Marauders and Lily it had almost been to much for her to handle. _Tomorrow, though,_ she though ruefully, _will be better. I'll keep a good handle on myself and wait this out as long as I have to._

Luckily the year wouldn't be too bad, seventh years were allowed to wear free dress under their school robes and were allowed more privileges. In slight truth, Hermione couldn't wait for a new day.

Her last thought was about saving Harry's parents, but it was quickly ruled out of her mind as it would drastically –and she meant _drastically– _change the course of the future. But maybe, just maybe, she would make things better in this time.

_Yes, that's exactly what I'll do. _She thought proudly before sleep consumer her.


	6. Chapter 6

Jab. Jab. Jab.

"Go away." Hermione grumbled, waving a lazy arm about to shoo away whoever was waking her.

Someone giggled and continued to poke her, this time a little harder.

"What!" she finally cried, groping for her wand, ready to draw some blood.

Sitting up and brushing the mass of hair away from her face, she looked up to see Lily her blouse, pleated skirt, Mary Janes, complete with Gryffindor tie, was the outfit residing under her Hogwarts robes.

"Aren't seventh years allowed to wear free-dress under their robes?" Hermione questioned curiously, wondering if the Prefect had forgotten.

"Well. . . er, yeah. But I have no good clothes to wear." Lily blushed.

"I know what you mean; my Aunt took me shopping this summer, but I tell you the outfits are rather horrid. I refuse to wear half of them. I'm one for strict limitations and rules; no reason boys should be staring at our girly bits because we can now freely flaunt off our breasts because no blouse is being forced to cover them."

"I agree!" Lily cried, her eyes shinning after Hermione's endearing speech that would have left Lavender in a heap of pitiful tears. "I still think it's okay to wear regular clothes, but the rules will be pushed to their limit by most of the girls MONDAY10:30; Ravenclaws

Potions; (Advanced) 10:40LUNCH4:30; Slytherins

Ancient Ruins; (Advanced) 4:00TUESDAY10:30

Herbology; (Advanced) 10:40LUNCH3:00; Ravenclaws

Arithmacy; (Advanced) 3:001:00; Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs and Slytherins

Transfiguration; (Advanced); 9:0012:40; Hufflepuffs

Defense Against the Dark Arts; (Advanced) 2:006:00 Ravenclaws and Slytherins

Potions; (Advanced) 9:0012:40

Defense Against the Dark Arts; (Advanced) 2:006:00 Ravenclaws and Slytherins

Charms; (Advanced) 9:0012:40; Ravenclaws and Slytherins

Care of Magical Creatures; (Advanced) 2:005:10; Ravenclaws and Slytherins

Astronomy; (Advanced) 12:00 Slughorn won't like that." Lily said and made way to stand. "Coming Hermione?"

"Ah, yes, sorry." Hermione apologized sheepishly, shaken from her distance thoughts as she grabbed her bag and stood from the table. "You two coming?" She shot a look at James who nodded and swallowed the last of his sausage.

But as she was about to turn around, generally expecting both boys to follow, she caught a look at Sirius who was" About that time Peter came into the Great Hall looking haggard and thoroughly exhausted. His pudgy cheeks were puffing and deflating with each huff of breathe he took.

"Peter, here is your Times Table." Lily thrust the paper into Peter's arms. "Come on or we'll be late! To Potions!" she said, looking flustered at the thought of being late.

Remus and Hermione shared a knowing look as they started dragging the three, still sleepily looking boys out of the Great Hall; breakfast falling out of their mouths and all.

As they leisurely made their way down the dank corridors of the dungeons, (all but Lily and Hermione, who were urging them all to move faster) the boys griped and complained about Horace Slughorn and his "walrus-like" appearance.

Although Hermione had never sassed a teacher, she couldn't help but silently agree that he did look something quite similar to a bristly walrus. And it wasn't until they were near the classroom did they have to pause in their travels.

But, to Hermione's greatest dismay and everyone else' hatred, they were stopped in their route by a pale, blond haired, pointed featured boy and his greasy haired, black eyed, sneering companion.

"Lucius and Severus; what a pleasure."


End file.
